


A Marriage of State

by Settiai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, One Shot, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6284470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Settiai/pseuds/Settiai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that they hated each other. For all intents and purposes, they were strangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Marriage of State

None of this was what Alistair had wanted.

Sometimes he wondered if there was a chance that he was still stuck in the Fade, his mind trapped by one of the demons that had taken over the Circle tower while his body wasted away somewhere. It had been made very clear to him, ever since he was nothing more than a small child still sleeping in the stables in Redcliffe, that he would never be king. The possibility had never even crossed his mind.

As much as Alistair loved Surana like a sister, there was a part of him that wanted to strangle her for getting him into this mess. They had placed the decision in her hands. She could have named Anora queen and left him out of the picture. Eamon would have been livid, of course, but she still could have done it. If she had, Alistair might have been with her right now, fighting darkspawn and Maker knew what else out in the countryside.

He had known her decision the moment she had turned to face him back at the Landsmeet, those green eyes of hers practically dripping with guilt. As much as he would have liked to, it was impossible to be angry with her when he knew that she hadn't _wanted_ to ruin his life.

In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Who knew that you could skip right over the "death" part and go straight to sacrifice?

Alistair leaned forward, resting his face in his hands. Any casual observer would assume he was being pious, sending up a prayer to the Maker like a good almost-templar turned Grey Warden turned king. In truth, he was hiding. It wouldn't last, but for a few minutes at least it would keep people from bothering him and give him a moment to himself just to _think_.

Kings apparently didn't get very many of those. He was quickly learning to take his moments of freedom wherever he could find them.

Footsteps suddenly came up behind him, soft and quiet. He barely even breathed, hoping that whoever it was would simply walk on by. Of course, his luck didn't let that happen. Cloth rustled, and then someone knelt beside him.

Alistair didn't groan or sigh or do anything else that he actually wanted to do. It might have taken him longer than it should, but he was slowly learning what was expected of him. He merely stayed where he was, kneeling on the ground with his face carefully hidden.

"It's more convincing if you move your lips." It was barely more than a murmur, but the voice giving the advice was surprisingly familiar.

Alistair's eyes shot open in surprise, and he jerked his head to the side. Anora met his gaze calmly, a tiny quirk of her eyebrow the only sign of emotion on her face.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

The corner of Anora's mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile, not truly, but it was closer than he was used to seeing from her.

"You are far from the only one to use this trick to their advantage, husband," she said matter-of-factly, and if he flinched slightly at the word 'husband' she had the good grace to ignore it. They weren't married yet, not officially, but it would happen soon enough. He needed to get used to the fact. "I'm merely giving you advice on how to make it more believable."

Alistair opened and closed his mouth a few times, gaping like a fish, before he finally remembered who he was and, more importantly, who he was _supposed_ to be. He quickly steeled his face.

Her mouth twitched again with that tiny hint of a smile that made her look more like a woman not truly that much older than him than the cold queen he'd known for the past few months. "Better," she said, nodding, and he wasn't entirely certain what she was referring to. "Better."

* * *

His wedding night was nothing like what he had expected. Admittedly, Alistair had never put much thought into having a wedding night in the first place, what with templars seldom marrying and Wardens even less likely to do so. But still. If he _had_ expected something, he knew that it wouldn't have been this.

The wedding itself had been excruciating, a thousand and one tiny minutia all working together to create the perfect spectacle. Alistair had hated every moment of it, but even he knew enough about politics to understand the importance. Fereldan was barely beginning its recovery from the Blight. The country, _his_ country, needed anything it could get to make the world a little brighter.

And if a royal wedding would help, who was the king to argue against it?

Still, the part that Alistair had been dreading was still to come. And when he found himself following Anora into the shared bedroom that was adjacent to each of their private quarters, the door closing behind them almost silently, he felt his heart sink.

Anora didn't even glance at him as she walked toward the bed. She had been as cold and hard as stone all day, and Alistair was not surprised to see that she hadn't softened despite them now being behind closed doors.

"I'll need help removing my gown," she said matter-of-factly, not even glancing backwards.

Alistair froze.

After what felt like a lifetime but was probably only a moment or two, Anora finally turned enough that she could see him. She lifted an eyebrow at him, not saying a word.

Despite the panicked voice in his head that was babbling incessantly, Alistair somehow managed to keep his utter terror from showing. He willed his feet to start moving, carrying him toward Anora.

His wife.

And at that thought, it took everything he had not to freeze again.

Instead, he forced himself to keep moving forward until he was standing just behind her, less than a hand's length between them. Without saying a word, he carefully unlaced the back of the painfully exquisite dress Anora was wearing, trying to think about anything else as it slid off her shoulders and revealed her pale, creamy skin.

The part of undressing that required his assistance was over much too soon for his comfort, and he quickly took a few steps back as Anora methodically began removing the thin garments she'd been wearing underneath her gown. He brought his hand up to rub uncomfortably at the back of his neck, his gaze drifting upward to focus on a dark spot on the ceiling.

In front of him, Anora cleared her throat.

Despite his better judgement, Alistair turned his gaze toward her. Any words that he might have said immediately caught in his throat, though, as he stared. She was completely nude, standing in front of him with an expectant look on her face. He knew that he should feel _something_ , but it was if his brain had come to a sudden halt and forgotten how to think.

He made a strangled sound.

Anora gave him a thoroughly unamused look. "You're acting as if you have no idea what to do next."

Alistair wasn't certain who he had inherited his ability to flush bright red with embarrassment from, Maric or his mother, but not for the first time he wished that particular trait could have skipped a generation. His face felt as if it was about to catch on fire.

Anora stared at him a moment, clearly puzzled, before realization dawned on her face a few seconds later. Her eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent 'o' as she stared at him, not even attempting to hide her surprise. Alistair thought that it might be the most emotion he'd ever seen from her.

It made her look years younger. 

"Oh," she said softly, and there was something in her eyes that Alistair didn't quite know how to read. "You mean to say you have never—"

"No," he said abruptly, cutting her off. Alistair looked away, not quite meeting her gaze. "No, I never have—well, you know."

There was silence for a moment, and Alistair wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor.

Then Anora sighed and took a few steps forward, so that she was standing just in front of him. He had no choice but to meet her gaze; it was either that or look down, and he was much more comfortable looking her in the eyes than he was looking at... well, any other part of her.

Anora's hands were surprisingly gentle as she reached out and unclasped his cloak, letting it drop to the floor. "A king must do his duty," she said. "As must a queen. It's expected of us."

"I'm well aware of that," Alistair said, and if there was a hint of bitterness in his voice he thought that he could probably be excused it just this once.

Her hands stilled.

"At some point, we will need to consummate the marriage," Anora said slowly, with just enough hesitation in her voice to catch his attention. "There is nothing that says it must be at this very moment."

It was his turn to stare. "What?"

Instead of answering him, Anora turned away and walked across the room. He watched silently, confused thoughts running circles in his head alongside a tiny hint of arousal now that his brain had decided to work again because Maker knew he was still a man after all. A moment later, she pulled a thin shift over her head. It didn't hide much, all things considered, but it made it much easier for him to concentrate with at least _something_ covering some of her skin.

Without saying anything, Anora walked back toward him and sat down on the bed. She didn't say anything, but the look she shot him was fairly pointed. Hesitantly, Alistair walked over and sat down beside her.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, the awkwardness between them steadily growing. Then Anora breathed out a sigh.

"Cailan was my first," Anora said quietly, not looking at him, "although I was not his. Sometimes—" She hesitated for just a moment. If he hadn't been paying attention, he might not have even noticed. "Sometimes I wish that we had waited until the time was right. For both our sakes." She finally looked up, meeting Alistair's gaze straight on. "I do not wish to repeat past mistakes."

Alistair stared blankly at her. There was something building in his chest that felt suspiciously like complete and utter relief.

The corners of Anora's mouth turned upward. It wasn't a smile, not quite, but it was close.

"We will need to share the bed, at least for the first few nights," she said, her voice a little stronger than it had been a moment before. More like a queen. "For the sake of appearances."

Alistair swallowed. Then he nodded. "I understand."

Something softened in Anora's eyes, a hint of worry that Alistair hadn't even noticed until just then starting to fade somewhat. For the first time, the thought crossed his mind that maybe he hadn't been the only one who hadn't known what to expect. He and Anora had barely interacted since the archdemon had been defeated, save for a few public appearances that hadn't been conducive to talking.

For all intents and purposes, they were complete strangers. She knew almost as little about him as he knew about her. Alistair couldn't help but think that maybe he wasn't the only one who wasn't quite certain what they were doing.

"We should probably talk," Alistair said. It came out a bit more hesitantly than he'd intended.

Anora slowly nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "We should." She paused for a moment before giving him an almost _impish_ look, one that he never would have imagined ever seeing on her face just a moment or two earlier. "After you have undressed, of course. It's only fair."

Alistair felt his face heat up, his eyes drawn down to her barely covered breasts almost of their own accord. He snapped his gaze back up to her face as soon as he realized what he was doing.

She smiled at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me over on Tumblr. (http://settiai.tumblr.com/)


End file.
